What they were not prepared for was the post-prandial aggression of oil traders who kicked and punched them back on to the pavement.
“We bit off more than we could chew. They were just Cockney barrow boy spivs. Total thugs,” one protester said, rubbing his bruised skull. “I’ve never seen anyone less amenable to listening to our point of view.”
Another said: “I took on a Texan Swat team at Esso last year and they were angels compared with this lot.” Behind him, on the balcony of the pub opposite the IPE, a bleary-eyed trader, pint in hand, yelled: “Sod off, Swampy.”
Well imagine that. A bunch of twenty-something men, hopped up on adrenaline, capitalism, and probably speed, weren't amenable to listening to the Greenpeace point of view. Not only that, but were pretty damn interested in working out some of their stress with a little bit o' the ultraviolence.
Note to Greenpeace: Stick to fucking with old IMF bankers. And watch for the canes.
...warming the cockles of my heart...